I Do, Don't I?
by Catalina Day
Summary: Casey is about to get married to the man of her dreams. And she totally wants to. Really. She isn’t thinking about anyone else at all. --Masey/Dasey. Mainly Dasey.-- Chapter Seven be buried here! ...YAR.
1. I Do, Don't I?

**Summary:** Casey is about to get married to the man of her dreams. And she totally wants to. Really. She isn't thinking about anyone else at all. _**Masey/Dasey**_. Mainly _**Dasey**_.

**A/N:** You read the chapter title correctly! We're jumping right into it, kids. Okay, so this idea just kinda plopped into my brain, possibly leaving a sticky residue on my ceiling. I wrote it down.

This is un-beta'd, and it might be a little fast. Please note that I haven't written fanfic or even really short-story length stuff for a while, so I'm kind of getting back into the groove. And I don't have the second chapter written out yet. I'm not even sure if this is gonna reach more than three chapters, in the long run. So, with all my insecurities hung out for all to see, and without any further ado, I present to you:

* * *

**I Do… Don't I?**

.

.

.

_Chapter One: I Do… Don't I?_

* * *

'_I do.'_

'_I _do_.'_

'_I really, _really_ do.'_

No matter how many times Casey said it, the girl in the mirror stared back at her with doubtful eyes. The clock on the wall ticked away, and she thought it might as well be ticking down her last minutes on earth. In five minutes they would start the music. In five minutes Casey McDonald would be getting married.

She fought the urge to cry as she sat down on the toilet seat. Normally she would freak out about her dress and the grossness of sitting down on a toilet, but right about now she was busy freaking out about more important stuff. Such as the feeling of impending doom settling like a rock in her stomach.

The door swung open, and Casey looked up.

"Em…" She could barely get her best friend's name out. And then the waterworks came. Emily knew what to do, and was instantly kneeling before her, leaning into a hug.

"What's wrong, hon?"

Casey took a few moments to let the initial bout of sobs subside and to curse her tendency toward crying at the most inopportune times. Eventually she leaned back out of the hug. She couldn't look at Emily, so she just looked at her hands. The ring was there, sparkling up at her; mocking her with it's perfect-ness. She had helped Max pick it out, but he hadn't minded. It _was_ perfect. It was exactly what she wanted in a ring.

"I… I don't think I can do this."

Emily sat back and waited, knowing the Casey Dam was about to break open and let loose a whole lot of nonsense. She was preparing to translate that into useful information.

"I mean… the ring is perfect, and everything is going exactly as planned." Casey stood up abruptly and started pacing the small bathroom, leaving Emily to take her place on the toilet. "Everything is good; it's great! I should be fine. I _am_ fine. I just need to focus." She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror again, saw her mascara running ('_Waterproof, my ass!'_) and started ranting again. "But I just keep feeling these _knots_ twisting in my stomach every time I think about Max waiting at the altar for me, and not the _good_ kind, and I just…" At this point she made a noise that was closely related to both a grunt and a scream.

"Alright Casey, just calm down." Emily stood up, and took her friend's hands. "So… you're not sure you can do this, get married. Everything's on schedule, nothing has gone wrong, you're nervous; but not the _good _kind of nervous," Casey nodded along as she continued, "you love your ring…but do you love Max?" Emily silently prepared for onslaught number two.

Casey just stared at her for a moment in disbelief. "Of _course_ I lo-"

A loud knock on the door interrupted her. A muffled voice came through the other side, which she recognized as one of her bridesmaids, Jane, "It's time!"

Suddenly Casey couldn't feel her legs. It was like a weird paralyzing numbness that spread upward from her toes.

"Casey? Are you okay?" Emily looked really concerned, probably by the look of unadulterated terror that flashed across Casey's face before being replaced with a strange calm.

"Yeah." She turned to the mirror and adjusted her make-up as best she could. "I'm alright. I'll be out in a minute, okay?" She smiled, but Emily wasn't buying it.

"Are you absolutely sure you're okay? Just a second ago you were having the Freak Out of all Freak Outs." Casey smiled, more sincerely this time, and nodded her head.

"I know, I know… I'm getting married; I think I'm allowed one big, giant, epic freak out. I'm sure Max had one too," she reasoned. "I love Max. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I've just been under a lot of pressure lately, ya know, all the planning and stuff…" She was not trying to convince herself. She was _not_.

"Okay…" Emily smiled uneasily back at her. "See ya out there."

**--**

The aisle was covered in white rose petals. She smiled at Marti, her flower girl, who smiled back, showing all her teeth. She'd done a good job. Her eyes roamed over the pews for a few moments before settling on Max. He was standing there looking as handsome as ever in his tuxedo, smiling at her. The calm that had overtaken her was starting to fade.

Still, she went forward, linking arms with George. Half-way up the aisle he would stop, and her father would lead her the rest of the way. It was about that time when she glanced over at Derek. He was smiling as well, but it was different somehow. He wasn't smirking, he wasn't overjoyed, and he didn't look like he was about to burst out laughing at her (all things she would totally expect Derek to do). He looked kind of… sad. Which was weird. Her heart beat faster; this whole 'calm' thing was definitely not working anymore. She looked back at Max. Her legs were itching, but she decided it was just the stockings she was wearing, and not the incredibly violent urge to run.

After what seemed like eons, she made it to the altar. Her dad kissed her on the cheek, and let go of her arm. Facing Max felt like facing her executioner. '_It shouldn't feel this way._' She brushed it off and smiled nervously at her soon to be husband.

**--**

"I, Max Miller, take thee, Casey McDonald, to be my wife. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, from this moment forward until death do us part." The wedding band slid on her finger with ease. Casey's face hurt from smiling so damn much.

Painful smile in place, she took Max's left hand, the ring shaking in her fingers. "I, Casey McDonald, take thee, Derek-" Max's smile was frozen in place. Gasps filled Casey's ears until she couldn't hear anything, and her mouth hung open. The apology in her eyes was flooded by the beginnings of tears as the ring fell at Max's feet. Slowly his smile fell.

"Um…" It was so quiet Casey could hear her heart trying to beat it's way out of her chest, and she swore that everyone else could hear it too. "I-I have to… go." And she was off. Screw possibly tripping while she was fleeing her own wedding; anything was better than standing there and having to face what had just happened. She did, however, lose her shoes somewhere before the front door. '_Who the hell wears high-heeled shoes to a wedding, anyway?_' she thought. They were uncomfortable, and impractical, and it didn't make any damn sense.

She stopped when she'd run out of breath, and sat on a park bench. It had started raining as they'd gotten to the church, and now it was just a light drizzle. She didn't care that her dress was getting all grody; in fact, she deserved it. She was the world's worst fiancé. Scratch that; she was the world's worst person. Not only had she said _someone else's name_ to Max on their wedding day, she had gone all out and said _Derek_'s name. Of all people! Resting her head in her hands, she took a moment to wonder if she had finally just lost it.

Well, she was sitting on a park bench in a wedding dress, in the rain, with no shoes on, having just done a runner from her own wedding because she'd said her step-brother's name instead of her fiancé's. That about summed it up; she was now, officially, a crazy person.

It was another twenty minutes before she hailed a taxi and made her way home. Max wasn't waiting at the apartment. She shouldn't have expected him to be, after what happened, but she couldn't help but feel a small stab of pain in her heart. Relief and guilt fought within her until exhaustion won. She was too drained to feel anything anymore. Moving almost mechanically, Casey changed into some regular clothes, laid the dress on the bed, and packed a few things. She thought it might be best if she stayed with Emily for a few days. Maybe. Right now she couldn't think straight.

Her car was still there, as they had taken Emily's to the church, so that wouldn't pose a problem. Emily! Everybody was probably freaking out, maybe worse than she had been. Casey quickly picked up the phone and dialed her friend's cell. The voicemail picked up. "Hey, Em… So, I really screwed up, huh?" She didn't want to cry, but it was happening anyway. "I, uh… I'm okay. Tell everybody I'm okay… Please call me back as soon as you get this." She took a deep breath as she hung up. Looked around at the worn out couch they'd gotten from the classifieds two years ago, the fake plant in the corner because they'd both been too busy to take care of a real one.

She left the rings on the coffee table.


	2. Years and Years of Therapy

**A/N:** Well, here it is! Chapter Two. It took me years. Eons, even. Srsly though, I hope you lieks it. Note, again, that it is unbeta'd. If you find anything odd, or any grammar mistakes, feel free to bring it to my attention in a polite manner. That having been said, thank you **SO MUCH** for the reviews. I appreciate it more than you will ever know. XD

* * *

**I Do... Don't I?**

.

.

.

_Chapter Two: I See Years and Years of Therapy In My Future  
_

* * *

"Yeah, mom, I know…" Casey pinched the bridge of her nose; she could feel a raging headache coming. It had only been three days since the wedding fiasco, and she was sitting in Emily and Sheldon's apartment, considering jumping out the window still holding the phone. Which probably wouldn't do anything anyway, as they were on the first floor.

"_Are you _sure_ you're okay?_"

"Yes, mom. Well… I'm gonna be fine, okay?" She barely believed it herself, but forced the words out nonetheless. It wasn't very often (if at all) that she lied to her mother, but in the spirit of self-preservation she would suck it up. Any more of this and her headache would turn into an explosive aneurism.

Just as her mother was about to launch into another worried spiel, the phone beeped. "Mom, I gotta go; I'm on Emily's phone, and there's a call, and it might be for her…"

"_Alright, but just remember-_"

"'Kay mom I love you bye!" She breathed a sigh of relief as she switched to the other call.

"Hello?"

"Casey…" Suddenly she wished her mother was back on the phone. "We need to talk."

--

On her way to the coffee shop, she'd picked up a newspaper, and she was browsing the classifieds for apartments as she sat. Waiting. Nervously sipping her tea. '_Don't panic. Everything's okay, he's just here to talk._' But she got the queasy feeling she should be talking to someone else. Of course, it would help if that someone would just pick up his freaking phone instead of letting the answering machine get it, or maybe actually call her. Though she understood why he hadn't, it was killing her.

She was so deep in thought that she didn't notice Derek until he waved a hand in front of her face. "Hellooo! Earth to Spacey!"

Having successfully gotten her attention (and having changed her thoughtful expression into a scowl), he moved on to more important things. "So…"

"Uh…" Casey wanted to bang her head against the table repeatedly until she knocked herself unconscious; it would solve most of her problems for the moment. "So, you wanted to talk. Talk." There. She was feeling more confident. 'Fake it 'til you make it.' Right.

"Hey, I didn't just say _your_ name to my finacé at _our_ wedding." She just stared at him for a second, until he continued. "Well, not _our_ wedding, but me and… uh… you know what I mean."

"Yeah. I know what you mean." The urge to laugh at him died with the image that appeared in her head; Max standing at the altar, ready for a life together that wouldn't come.

He looked out the window. It was bright and sunny out, with a nice breeze rustling through the trees. "Why _did_ you say my name?" His tone wasn't accusatory.

Casey looked away. "I, um…" She gulped the rest of her tea, and looked anywhere but at him. "Is there an easy answer to that question? I mean… I loved Max. And you, well… we fight all the time, we could barely stand each other from the time we first met." Her voice was straining. She was running out of things to examine closely that weren't Derek. "I barely even like you." This last was said quietly, with hardly a breath to propel it from her mouth.

Derek seemed to consider this for a moment. He stared her down until she looked at him. There was something strange in his gaze. Casey could practically feel her synapses firing, nerve endings on fire. As soon as he opened his mouth, she derailed him by nearly slamming the classifieds on the table in front of him. "I need to find a new apartment."

Confusion bloomed on his face, and she continued. "I can't stay on Emily and Sheldon's couch forever, and I doubt Max… uh…" She took a breath. "Well, I just really suck at apartment-hunting. I could use some help."

At the pleading look in her eyes, Derek simply nodded. "So, what are you looking for?" She knew the conversation wasn't over, but it had been delayed. Whatever happened, she needed to talk to Max about this first.

--

She'd always loved Mondays, but this time she'd woken up ready to make an exception. Work wasn't quite as unbearable as she'd thought it would be, however. Jane was manning the front desk, and had only mentioned the wedding once. When Casey had abruptly changed the subject to how a zen rock garden might look in the corner, her friend seemed to get the message.

She'd only been working as a free-lance photographer for a year; before that, she'd been working for the local paper. Being Responsible Casey, she had been practical and frugal, and had eventually saved enough money to buy a small office/studio, and waited until she'd had the reputation to warrant it.

At sixteen, she thought she knew exactly where she'd be ten years later. Gainfully employed, successful, possibly married. '_Two out of three ain't bad_'. Despite her 'fierce, independent woman' attitude, she'd always secretly dreamed of getting married, having a family.

Right now she was sitting in front of her computer, staring at the copious digital photos on the screen. Her last appointment of the day had left an hour ago, and her eyes were starting to water as she was fairly certain she hadn't blinked in several minutes. Shaking her head, and closing her eyes, she saved what was there and stood up to stretch.

When she turned to grab her sweater, she jumped at the person standing in front of her. "Derek. Hey." He just smirked at her as she put her favorite blue sweater on.

"So, Space Case, I've been thinking about this whole 'apartment-hunting' thing."

"You've been thinking?" She put on a false expression of shock, which was met by fake laughter from Derek.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Funny." He held the door open for her, and they made their way to the front doors. "Say I help you. What's in it for me?"

Casey rolled her eyes as she set the alarm. "I should've known…" Since mumbling was only therapeutic for all of two seconds, she continued at a normal tone, "What could I possibly have that you would want?"

She finished locking up and turned to face him, arms crossed. He was sitting on the stone wall that surrounded one of many trees in front of her building, and he was looking at her, scheming. It was the look that cats got when they'd caught a mouse, but hadn't quite decided what to do with it yet. "I want…"

'_Breathe, Casey. _Breathe_!_'

"…dinner." He smiled and stood. "You're paying."

She narrowed her eyes at him, not believing for a second that that was all he wanted. But for the moment, it was a small price to pay. And she really _did_ suck at house hunting, so she couldn't afford _not_ taking the help. Relaxing a bit, she walked past him toward her car. "Fine, but we're taking my car."

--

They'd actually, kind of (dare she say?) had fun together. The first few apartments they'd seen were below her price range, but had needed work. Combined with the cost for new appliances, furniture, etc., she'd decided it was too much money. It seemed like crappy apartment after crappy apartment, but Derek always found something to joke about. Whether it was about Casey or the apartments they looked at, it distracted her from the recent loss of morale in more than just one area.

One landlady had thought they were dating. Before Casey could protest, Derek had pulled her close and played along, making up a story about how they'd met while on a nude beach in Europe. The lady was uncomfortable the rest of the time they were there, and Casey didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Finally she'd settled on a fairly average sized apartment that came fully furnished, though it was farther away from her work than the others. She'd gladly paid for both of their dinners at a place called Rosie's that Derek had found when he'd first moved out. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew he was biding his time, planning what else he wanted from her. Despite all that, she'd had a pretty good time.

And all day, Derek never once mentioned the conversation about the wedding from the day before, or the fact that when she mentioned Max she had said 'loved' instead of 'love'.


	3. Reality Bites

**A/N:** So I finished chapter three in a random fit of inspiration. Chapters four and five are being vaguely outlined in my head, and could take a couple days to take shape, and then probably about five bajillion years for me to write. XD

This chapter didn't go as I'd originally planned, but I like where it went, as I think it adds more depth to the characters. Hopefully you will too.

Enjoy! And **please** review. I love reading them so much, and it helps me get excited about writing the story. A quick but heartfelt THANK YOU(**!**) to those who have reviewed, added this to their favorite stories, and/or put me or this story on their alert(s) list. It means a lot to me; you guys are seriously made of win.

* * *

**I Do... Don't I?**

.

.

.

_Chapter Three: Reality Bites, Then Follows It Up With a Punch in the Face_

* * *

Casey was surrounded by a sea of boxes. Actually, she decided, it was more like a maze. She had been completely unaware of exactly how much crap she'd accumulated over the years. After donating about half of it to second hand stores, she'd have space again. A frown contorted her face as she thought about the apartment she'd shared with Max; this one was smaller, she should've expected that. Like so many other things, it seemed, she had failed to account for it.

"Marco!" Lizzie called out from the living room.

"Polo!" Casey replied when she found that she didn't have the energy to stand. A minute later, her sister was standing in the doorway. Casey shot her hand up from behind a large box stacked on top of her new mattress. "Near the closet, kiddo."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that." Lizzie sounded only mildly irritated at the nickname, and Casey could tell she was trying to keep things as normal as possible. She smiled as Lizzie took a seat beside her, and looked down at what she had just unpacked from the box in front of her.

"It's from when we first moved in together…" She saw Lizzie nod out of the corner of her eye, looking down at the framed photograph of she and Max. She'd had her arms wrapped around his waist, and his arm was around her shoulder, holding her close. Big smiles. They looked happy.

"I know," she was almost surprised to hear her sister's voice, "mom got all camera-happy. 'My baby's growing up so fast' and all that." Lizzie paused for a moment, considering. "Thanks for not making me wear some gross, ugly dress, Case." It took Casey a moment to realize that she was referring to the wedding. She laughed openly at that. Casey had spent months beforehand teasing Lizzie endlessly about the horrible frilly dress she was going to make her wear; it had become something of an inside joke between the two. When Lizzie had tried on the dress (which was actually very pretty), she had said the same thing, in a rather sarcastic manner. This time, though, her voice was softer. It was her way of broaching the subject, which Casey hadn't spoken about to anybody but Derek and her mother, and then only briefly.

"I don't know why I did it, Liz." Her knuckles whitened as her grip on the frame tightened. Ever since the wedding that didn't happen, her brain had either been blank, or buzzing with thoughts that just seemed to collide and explode until she was surprised that she could still function.

Lizzie pried the frame slowly from her hands, and set it down on top of the box. Casey stared at it, but what Lizzie said next made her look up at her sister. "I think it's okay not to know." At the look she was being given, Lizzie blushed, but continued defensively, "I mean, sometimes you need to think things through. You don't always have to rush everything, Casey; you can take a minute to breathe."

So she did. Casey let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. In fact, it felt like she'd been holding her breathe for a week now, her chest tightening with every measured intake of stale air. It felt good to let it go. "You're right." She lightly tapped the edge of the frame, and it tumbled into the box on top of some old newspapers. "You are _so_ right."

They sat, for a few minutes, in silence, staring at the place where the photo used to be. Casey was thinking about what that empty space meant.

"Casey," Lizzie was the first to break the awkward calm that had settled over them.

"Yeah?"

There was a short pause where Lizzie gestured to the boxes piled throughout the room. "You have _way_ too much stuff." Laughter bubbled up in Casey's throat, laughter that wasn't weighed down by _if_s and _maybe_s.

"I know."

--

The first trip to her apartment… Scratch that; her _old_ apartment hadn't been too horribly awkward. She'd finally gotten fed up with Max not answering the phone, so she'd just left a message saying she'd be there on Wednesday to get her things. Max had left a note on the door saying that he'd be out for a couple hours. She'd gotten most of her stuff moved out (as evidenced by the near millions of boxes she was still sorting through), but had 'forgotten' a few things. Which was why she'd shown up randomly the next day, after work.

She found the door locked when she arrived, and so she used her key. The door opened quietly. The lamp was on in the living room, and Max was sitting on the couch, looking somewhat disheveled. He turned to her as soon as she stepped into the room, and sat up straighter, looking around the room nervously.

"Hey, um… Hey." Casey just nodded in response, seeming to have given up on words entirely. She stood awkwardly for a moment before clearing her throat.

"I, uh… I forgot my hairdryer. And some books."

If she had expected him to say anything, in the next few minutes she would be sorely disappointed. She moved into the bathroom, and then the bedroom to gather her strategically placed 'left behind' items. When she emerged, she found Max still sitting on the couch, the TV on mute. She dumped her things unceremoniously near the front door, and plopped down next to him on the worn out couch. He wouldn't look at her. Her arms crossed over her chest, and she looked at him. This was the man she'd spent so much time falling in love with. He was sitting not even a foot from her, and they couldn't even speak to each other. Some part of her still wanted him to love her. Casey didn't understand herself, and she hated that.

"I'm sorry." The words tumbled from her mouth and fell flat on the floor at her feet. It wasn't enough, but it was all she could manage.

"Casey…" Max leaned forward and started shuffling the remote carelessly from one hand to the other. There was more awkward silence, and then, "It's not that easy." He seemed to almost choke on his next words, but reigned in his voice quickly. "You hurt me."

This she had been expecting, and she had thought she had numbed herself to it. But the pain was there anew, roiling in her stomach and pinching her throat. "I don't even know how to talk to you about it… I don't even know what to say."

He finally looked at her, and it was her turn to look away. She had _hurt_ him.

"You don't know what to say?" His voice was harsh, incredulous, and heavy with emotion, like he was about to cry. In an attempt to keep her hands from visibly shaking, she wrapped them tighter around herself, and let him continue. '_I deserve this_,' she thought. "Jesus, Casey! You said your step-brother's name instead of mine; your _step-brother's_! And then you just ran out on me…" He sounded about as lost as she felt, and she couldn't help the tears that streaked down her cheeks. "The least you could do is tell me why? If you thought it was going too fast, you could've said something. But _that_… Case, why…" She could tell he was about to lose it.

"I don't know! Okay?" Suddenly she felt like screaming. Not even words, just a gutteral yell that would release this tangled knot of confusion tightening in her throat. "I don't know why I said his name; I have no fucking clue!" Her eyes were starting to swell from the sobs that were now wracking her body. The muted TV blurred in front of her as they sat there until her tears waned and then stopped.

"Leave… please."

Casey didn't have the energy not to comply. Just as she had reached the door and gathered her things, he said her name. She turned to him, trying not to be hopeful. "The key…" She reached into her pocket, and tossed the key toward the coffee table. It slid across the shining surface and landed on the carpet on the other side.

"I don't know why I did it, but I know that I hurt you… and I'm sorry." It was weak, but it was true, and it was the best she had. The drive back to her new home was full of empty spaces and street corners that she was just beginning to recognize.


	4. The Best Things in Life

**A/N:** Holy Crap Cakes Batman, it's been a while! Sorry for the not updating in a while; life was busy kicking my ass. But, lo! I am back, with a completely unedited new chapter, that I also wrote at three in the morning. **FEAR ME!** Rawr.

Thanks so much for the reviews, and for adding my story to your favorites and/or alert lists. It makes me so happy I could just explode joy all over the place! But I won't; that's unsanitary.

In this chapter, people fail in many different ways, we get more insight into a certain character, and somebody actually _doesn't_ fail so hard it hurts. Enjoy!

* * *

**I Do... Don't I?**

.

.

.

_Chapter Four: The Best Things in Life May be Free, But so is Torture!_

* * *

Operation Cheer Casey Up was in full swing. Well, it was at the point where someone usually jumps off the swing… and then breaks a leg, is taken to the hospital, and told they have cancer. It wasn't going very well at all.

Currently Marti was trying everything she could think of to take Casey's mind off of Max and everything that had to do with him, or them. She was beginning to see that Edwin was right; it wasn't easy. Lizzie had taken the first shift, and when it didn't go well, morale dropped significantly in the ranks.

Derek, of course, was of the opinion that everybody should just let her wallow in her own misery for a while. Everybody, of course, completely disagreed with him. And Marti and Lizzie had agreed that he was a big, stinky jerk-face.

"Marti, this is really sweet of you; all of you! But I'm not sure I can physically take any more cheering up." They were sitting at Casey's kitchen table, two bowls of melted cookie dough ice cream beside them (this was mostly Casey's bowl), and playing cards spread out on the table in front of them. Sure, maybe Go Fish had been a lame idea, but after the puppet show her creative juices had just stopped flowing. Marti was just one young woman, for crying out loud!

"But, uh…" Casey smiled sadly, and Marti knew that she'd failed at her mission. She only hoped that her commanding officer (Lizzie) would be lenient in issuing her reprimand. "I guess… it's getting late anyway."

After the cards had been cleaned up, and the bowls put in the sink, Marti slipped away to 'use the bathroom'. Had Casey been devious enough to bother listening at the door, she would've heard the ensuing conversation.

"Smerek!"

"_Oh, are we doing that again, Smarti?_" The voice on the other end was dripping with sarcasm. Marti didn't spare it much thought but to roll her eyes.

"Yes, and you need to get your butt over here right now." She heard shuffling on the other end, then silence. "Derek?"

""_Yeah, I'm here._" There was another long pause, and then, "_I'm pretty sure Case doesn't want the entire clan over there reminding her of all this shit, me especially._" Even a rare glimpse of pure honesty wasn't gonna cut it this time. Marti had set her pride aside and been Casey's flower girl; she'd done it to make her happy. Derek barely said two words to Casey, and when he did he was usually picking a fight. He was going to put his time in whether he liked it or not.

"Well, tough shit." The silence on the other end of the line brought a satisfied smirk to her lips. Still being thought of as the baby of the family sometimes had its perks, if you knew how to swing it, and Derek had taught her well. Marti may have been sixteen, but she used her swear words sparingly, and like weapons. She found it had more impact that way. She continued, "You owe me, Derek, and I'm calling in my favor."

A beat, and then… "Fine."

--

Marti had borrowed Nora's car for the evening (which was still too weird for Casey to think about), so Casey had waited for the call Marti had promised she'd make when she was home safe. Casey was still Casey, after all.

Right now she was watching a commercial for an exercise machine that claimed to be the best in the business: "Reshape your abs in just days!" She was about to change the channel when a soft knock sounded at the door. Thinking that maybe Marti forgot something, she opened it without a second thought. "Hey Marti, what'd yo-"

That definitely was not Marti. His words soon confirmed that.

"Last time I checked, I was _not_ a hyperactive sixteen-year-old with a penchant for naming inanimate objects." That was a trait Marti had picked up when she was nine when she named the new toaster _Frank_, and possibly the one thing she had been unwilling to let go of from childhood. Casey almost laughed, but Derek was standing in her doorway holding a bag in one hand, and a bottle in the other. She was surprised to see that it was a soda bottle, and not some type of alcohol.

"Well, I doubt you'd come here to try to help… So let me guess: you're here to torture me?" Falling into old patterns was easy; it was comfortable. She could tell that he felt the same by the look on his face as he responded in kind.

"Why, _hello to you too_, Case. How am _I_ doing? Oh, just fabulous; and yourself?"

Casey promptly turned away from the door and started to walk toward the couch. "Either get in here, or kindly close the door, jackass." Soon after she heard the door shut, her lap was flooded with DVDs from the bag her step-thing had been carrying. "So your tactic is to drown me in bad acting?" she asked upon seeing some of the titles. The Blob, Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, Creature from the Black Lagoon just to name a few.

"Actually, yes," he replied, sinking onto the couch next to her. "I thought we could MST3K it up." He reached out and took one of the DVDs, examining the cover.

"Edwin already tried movies." She had pushed the cases to her right, so that they fell between them, some of them straying between the cushions.

"Clearly, he was doing it wrong." He took the case in his hand, and offered it to Casey, who took it cautiously. They stared at each other for a second. "Now throw it at the wall."

"Uh… what?"

Derek looked like he was about to explain something very complicated to a very small child. "Whichever one lands closest to the couch starts the marathon, Spacey."

"You would have me dent my walls just to watch crappy movies?" Her features warred between appalled and amused.

"Of course," Derek picked up a case of his own. "I have absolutely _no qualms_ about damaging your property in the pursuit of cinematic enjoyment. Now throw the damn DVD." And so, feeling for the first time in days like she'd had a choice in how she felt, Casey chucked Alien Apocalypse at the wall above her TV. It made a tiny little chip.

She smiled, and so did Derek.


	5. And Whatever Remains

**A/N:** Well, kids, this chapter was almost as confusing to write as it (probably) will be to read. I fully realize that it may not make sense the first time 'round. However, hopefully the next chapter will shed some brighter light on what's going on inside Casey's head.

I have it planned out; hopefully inspiration will strike soon.

* * *

**I Do... Don't I?**

.

.

.

_Chapter Five: And Whatever Remains Must Be True_

* * *

"Whenever you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

-- Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

* * *

Casey had woken up on the morning following Derek's B-movie marathon, head slumped over onto her nemesis' shoulder, and his arm wrapped loosely around her. She didn't wonder until after he had left just why she had stayed there with him for so long. Why hadn't she freaked out like she normally would (not that anything about this was _normal_)? The only answer she could find was the churning in her stomach whenever she thought about it, and that wasn't much of an answer at all.

It had been a week since then, and she hadn't heard from either Derek or Max, and hadn't tried calling either of them. The situation was worse than she'd anticipated. Somewhere in the back of her mind (and even after the not-so-fun confrontation with her ex-fiance), she realized she had expected to get back together with him. It surprised her that even beyond her doubts and sadness, resting silently and waiting for the most inopportune moment to strike, was the expectation of reconciliation. Hope. It had eaten away at her all morning, so much so that she had Jane reschedule her afternoon appointments (there were only three) and now found herself standing in front of Emily's door.

Just as she was about to raise her hand to knock, a voice sounded down the hall. "Casey?"

She turned to see Sheldon walking toward her, burdened with at least three packed grocery bags. Without thinking, she reached out to take one, and was given two while Sheldon reached into his pocket for his keys. "So what's happening with you?" Casey shifted the bags in her arms, and tried to think of a lie quickly, but Sheldon didn't give her a chance as he opened the door and continued to speak, taking one of the bags from her. "Emily is visiting the parental units; weekly thing." At this, he ushered her inside and toward the kitchen. "Usually Fridays, but it got pushed forward…"

Casey set the bag down, her mind spinning uselessly. Sheldon started putting groceries away, and so she helped, for once not caring whether or not there was a system to how everything was organized. Sheldon only smiled at her when she put the milk in the cupboard next to the canned peas (Emily wasn't a fan, but Sheldon maintained that she wouldn't be complaining when the bird flu epidemic struck), and simply put it in the fridge where it belonged. "So, you didn't answer my question…"

"Huh?" Casey peered at him over the brown paper grocery bag.

"What's happening with you?" Sheldon folded the other two grocery bags together, and dropped them onto the counter next to the sink. Casey looked down and pulled out a box of cereal, setting it on the counter.

"Not much…" '_Okay_,' she thought, '_that was lame, Casey; even for _you.'

"Then why were you trying to force my milk to co-habitate with the canned vegetables?" Sheldon's lips had curled into a good-humored smile when Casey looked up at him, confusion written on her face. After a moment, she got it.

"Oh my god," she groaned, rubbing her face with both of her hands, "I _did_ do that, didn't I?"

Sheldon walked around the counter that stood between them, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and walked them into the living room (which was a relatively short walk). He sat her down in the middle of the couch, and took a seat in the recliner next to it.

"Now Casey," here he straightened his glasses and cleared his throat, "tell Dr. Sheldon all about it."

Casey smiled haphazardly at him, wanting to cry from pure frustration. "I-I don't know… Emily…" Those were the only words that her mouth could seem to form properly.

"Emily won't be back for a couple of hours, but I don't mind if you want to wait for her." Casey considered it. She looked at Sheldon's face; understanding clear as day on his face. And he _was_ working his way through school to become a psychologist. Granted, he wanted to be a _child_ psychologist, but she supposed the basics were the same all around. Beyond all that, though, Sheldon was just a nice guy. A bit eccentric at the best of times, but a good listener. And, she realized, she hadn't talked to him much at all since she'd gotten engaged. She wondered at that briefly before speaking.

"Actually, I think I could use a fresh perspective on this… if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

--

And so they sat like that for an hour, Casey rehashing her feelings about the wedding that never was, and her conversation with Max. She found out that Emily had told him all about it already, but she wasn't surprised. There were few people Casey really expected Emily to keep her secrets from, and Sheldon wasn't one of them.

After that, they moved into the kitchen for sodas, where they talked about none other than Derek. Sheldon, for the most part, let her speak, only asking questions when he felt it was warranted. One he never asked was the one he was sure was on everybody's mind; why did Casey say Derek's name at the altar? He wasn't sure she was quite prepared for that one yet. When they reached Casey's surprising disappointment at the abrupt end of her relationship with Max, he jumped at the chance to ask more questions.

"Why is that so surprising?"

Casey thought about it for a moment, quietly sipping her Sprite. "I don't know; it just seems so… _final_."

"Well, yeah… But, I mean, why were you surprised to feel that way so suddenly?" Sheldon clarified as best he could, and proceeded to grab a few chips from the bag on the table.

"I guess…" She was almost at a loss for words now. Why _had_ it struck her so suddenly? Where were those feelings before, when they were supposed to be relevant?

"Whatever you're thinking, just say it." His voice was thoughtful, honest; not goading like a certain someone might've been.

"I was sad, ya know? But I didn't know what to think about everything." She thought back to her last conversation with Max. "I feel so terrible about what I did to him; nobody deserves that, especially not Max…" Moving the can from side to side across the table made the wood finish shine wetly from the condensation that trickled down the sides. She stared at the spot as she spoke. "Even after we talked… I was angry at myself that I'd hurt him so much." She looked up as a hand came down gently on her shifting cup.

"You feel guilty, understandably so." He waited a beat, perhaps for her to confirm. When she didn't, he continued. "Maybe you're just a little bit shocked to find out that you miss him?" At this, Casey looked up confused. She _had_ missed him. After the first couple of nights at Em's, when the fog of confusion and regret had lifted, loneliness sank in.

"But- I _did_…" The look her best friend's boyfriend was giving her took her aback. One eyebrow raised, as if daring her to disagree.

He was right. She had pushed it all down, held it back. She was good at that, despite the emotional openness she claimed to excel in. Talking was her way of working things out, but when she didn't want to think about it, or it seemed like too much to deal with, she just shut down.

"There's this nifty little thing called self-sabotage," Sheldon said, lifting his soda to his lips and finishing it. " Happens when you hold a lot in, aren't honest with yourself. You prevent good things from happening to yourself, maybe because you feel you don't deserve it, maybe 'cause you don't really want it at all." Here, there was a heavy pause.

"In that last case, I think it's probably a good reaction. Maybe not the most healthy way to live, but way better than getting something you never wanted to begin with."

"But then why would I miss him, if I never wanted to marry him?" Casey was, quite possibly, more confused than ever before. She was beginning to wish she'd never come, and instead had continued to wallow in her apartment until she died alone.

"I don't know," Sheldon answered honestly. "He's your friend, if nothing else. And, generally speaking, you like hanging around your friends… Just because you didn't want to marry him, doesn't mean you don't care about him. It's messy, it's complicated; welcome to life." The poor girl looked like a deer caught in headlights. He munched thoughtfully on a chip. "I'm not gonna lie, and say everything will be fine and that you or Max will suddenly have a change of heart… but you've got a good head on your shoulders. You're more than capable of coming out of this." He offered her a chip, which she calmly took.

"And if you ever need somebody to talk to, to get a 'fresh perspective'… I'm always here."

At that moment the door opened, snapping Casey out of her blank stare. She stayed for a few minutes, to catch up with Em, but her head was spinning more than it had been earlier. Only this time, it was alive with thoughts and questions and emotions. It was all she could do that night to lay in bed, staring up at the headlights moving across her ceiling in random intervals, mind buzzing until the moment exhaustion let her fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	6. The Meaning of Life

**A/N:** Oh my! It's Chapter Six... YAAAY! Okay, so this is by no means the end. We still have a few more chapters to go, so hang in there. I'm so thrilled with this story, because I've stuck with it thus far. I've written out something of a plan, and I'm following through with it, and it's making me a better writer. Usually when I plan something out, I end up losing interest in it, so one can see how this is awesome to me.

ANYWAY. Thank you all so much for the reviews. They've been beyond helpful with the motivation factor. Also, they make me feel all tingly inside. But not in the dirty way.

So be sure to tell me what you think of this chapter. Is it too rushed? Are the characters _in character_? Do you like the chapter title(s)? If you answer me, will I actually stop asking questions...?

* * *

**I Do... Don't I?**

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Chapter Six: The Meaning of Life_

_(and Other Discoveries Significant to the Interests of all Mankind)_

* * *

Casey moved the candle slightly to the left. After a moment, she moved it back to it's previous place on the coffee table. She sat back on the couch, arms crossed, staring at it. Sighing in frustration, she leaned forward and moved the candle just a fraction of an inch to the left again. The stupid thing just wouldn't sit right!

When she kicked it off the table, it landed with a dull thump on the carpet. She felt a little bit better.

Leaning back once more, her mind nearly buckled under the weight of Sheldon's words and her own thoughts. She cared about Max, that much she knew. She had ruined any chance of being with him again, unless he was a saint (which she didn't expect him to be). Had she ruined her chances of being his friend? An acquaintance? Was that all she really wanted from him anymore?

Sheldon was right; not wanting to marry him didn't automatically mean that she didn't _care_ about him. It just meant she didn't want to marry him. That seemed entirely too simple, but Casey decided to hang onto it for dear life, as it was all she had at the moment. It was a starting point.

'_Think rationally about this_,' she told herself, moving to lay down, her legs dangling over one arm of the couch. The problem with this was that Casey was the most irrational rational person on the face of the planet.

Why had she said yes? The truth was, and she was willing to admit this only in her own head, that she didn't have a clue. It had just seemed like the right thing to do… No, not right, _proper_. That had been her plan, after all: fall in love, get married, have kids (but those last two only after graduating from college and finding a good job). The Plan. The stupid, dumb, idiot Plan that now seemed to be complete nonsense. And where had _the Plan_ come from? She'd felt like she _had_ to, but nobody had really forced her to have all these inane goals. Though, she supposed, falling in love wasn't exactly inane. But forcing it was pointless…

Now that she thought about it, every boyfriend she'd ever had had been only a little more than a friend. She had convinced herself that she liked them more than she did; she had wanted to love them. She _had_ loved Max, after the initial 'honeymoon phase' where you can't-eat-can't-sleep but when you do you dream about him. When did that stop, exactly? Somewhere between the first "I love you" and "Yes, I'll marry you".

The next question came to her like a train rushing down the tracks. Inevitable. Why had she said Derek's name?

She could've just said "I can't do this" or even "I don't love you". Harsh, yes, but better than announcing to the world that she'd apparently rather marry her step-brother. Unintentional cruelty was still cruelty, and she had a feeling she had hurt all three of them with what she'd done. Only Derek had been nice enough to stick around. Derek. Nice. Two words that shouldn't be compatible in any universe. Oh, sure, he had grown up, but only as much as Derek could. He still fought with her, still bossed Edwin around, but it was different somehow, more lighthearted and entirely less threatening.

It freaked her out now that she thought about it, and the sudden warmth she was experiencing certainly didn't help her anxiety. Derek had wanted to talk about it the first time they'd seen each other after the wedding. She'd cut him off, the wound too fresh to open up again. He had let it go.

Casey rolled off the couch, pushing the coffee table dangerously close to the television as she did so. As she put her shoes on and grabbed her car keys, all she could think of was finding Derek. She was pretty sure his apartment wasn't too far away from her neighborhood.

--

She rang the bell again. Tried knocking on the door.

…

Nothing.

Just as she was about to turn away, defeated, the door creaked open.

"Casey?"

"Oh… hey Sam!" Casey was confused, to say the least. Sam had been in Toronto designing video games as far as she knew. "What're you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too." Sam smiled as he opened the door further. It creaked menacingly, and Casey shivered.

"I'm sorry," she said, still breathing heavily from the run up the stairs, "I didn't mean it that way… I'm just… in a rush." Before he could get another word in, she spoke again. "So you're staying with Derek?"

"Yeah, didn't he tell you?" All was silent for a moment as Casey stared at the doorjamb despondently. "I'm guessing that's a no…"

"Uh… we haven't spoken in a couple days. It's fine, though. Yeah…" She smiled at him half-heartedly. "You could've told me though, you jerk! It's good to see you again." She reached out and they shared a quick hug.

"Good to see you too, Case."

"Um… not that I don't want to hang out and talk or anything, but do you happen to know where Derek is?" Sam simply arched an eyebrow and smiled at her.

"He went to your parent's house for dinner," at this his smile became wider. "Shouldn't you be there too, by the way?"

"Shit!" Casey looked to her wrist only to find that her watch was notably absent. With all the crap piled up on her plate, she'd completely forgotten about their weekly family dinner. Yes, it was cheesy, but that was Nora and George for you.

"Wow, so you _are_ capable of swearing…" Sam looked like he was having way too much fun with this, but Casey was too flustered to think of a good comeback.

"Shut up. I'll see you later, 'kay?" And she was off like a rocket before Sam could even wave goodbye.

--

When she'd gotten to the house, they were just getting ready to sit down to dinner. Upon Casey's arrival, the first words out of Marti's mouth were: "See? I _told_ you she'd be alright… and late."

Casey was too winded to smile, so she just sat down in her usual place across from Derek. Dinner ensued. For the most part, Edwin and Lizzie filled the room with conversation, with Marti piping in when she thought she was being left out. She'd always had a real complex about that.

Casey and Derek took turns acting like they weren't quietly staring at each other while the other wasn't looking. The only people they were fooling were themselves.

It was only after dinner, and after she had helped her mother with the dishes that she approached Derek. He was watching hockey with George and Marti; Lizzie and Edwin were nowhere to be seen.

"Derek," she said quietly, leaning over his recliner.

"Busy Spacey." His eyes seemed glued to the TV. She pinched his shoulder. "Ow!" Well, that got a reaction. From everybody. She leaned in closer.

"I need to talk to you, outside. Seriously." With a theatrical roll of his eyes, Derek lifted himself from his seat like a decrepit old man and made his way to the door.

Once on the walkway, Casey turned abruptly and Derek almost bumped into her. "What is _with_ you today?" She just stood there studying him. She waited for that feeling to rise up in her stomach again, the warm butterflies that bounced around until she almost felt sick.

"Why did you let it go?"

"What?" Derek looked confused; he was never afraid to look however he felt. Casey usually just _couldn't help _but look how she felt.

"When we were in the café, and you wanted to talk about my wedding, and what happened with me saying your name…" She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. She was pretty sure this question was important. "Why did you let me just change the subject?"

"_You are insane_, you know that?" He had, of course, discovered this a long time ago, but was never adverse to telling her in any way he could.

"I know," she said, stamping her foot on the pavement like a two-year-old. "I've completely lost it, but would you just answer the damn question? And answer it honestly." This last was said almost as an afterthought. She couldn't look at him anymore, so she concentrated on the porch behind him instead.

Derek mumbled something she couldn't quite understand. She wondered if was an answer, or if he was just cursing her out under his breath. "What was that?"

"I said, 'I don't know', alright? I don't know!" His sudden rage burned right through her, and she glanced up at him. Really looked at him. After a moment, he kept going, seemingly vomiting his every thought onto her shoes. "Why _did_ you say my name instead of Max's, huh? Why couldn't you have just said 'no' or something? Are you really _that_ afraid of disappointing people, Casey?" She didn't realize she was crying, and he didn't seem to notice either until she looked up at him.

"Yes," was her only reply. And then she kissed him.

It was just a gentle pressing together of the lips, but it was enough to leave Derek standing there, frozen, staring down at her. She tried again, and it was just as wonderful as the first time. She figured she should take the opportunity while it was there, as he would likely start freaking out once he came back to himself. Not for the first time, Casey was wrong. It wasn't a second later when his arms came sliding around her back, pulling her closer to him. He was kissing her back.

--

"About time," Lizzie whispered as Edwin scrambled to get a better view. In his defense, it wasn't really easy to see through a dense bush at night when the only light was coming from a window.

"What's going on? Are they kissing?" In his excitement, Edwin tripped, accidentally jamming his elbow into Lizzie's side.

She grunted, pushing Edwin's elbow out of her ribs. He fell backward further into the bushes on the side of the house. Lizzie just smiled, and stepped right over him on her way to the back yard.


	7. Nobody's on the Same Page

**A/N:** This chapter is shorter than the last. I'm not bothered, because it did exactly what I never knew I wanted it to do. Sorry if it feels rushed; it's only edited for spelling and some minor details, and not really a whole lot of that. I really hope you enjoy it, though, despite it's flaws.

Thanks again for the reviews; I love hearing what everybody thinks, and I'm so incredibly glad so many people like this story.

Also note that this definitely isn't the end. I think we've got about two more chapters to go after this.

* * *

**I Do... Don't I?**

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Chapter Seven: Nobody's on the Same Page 'Cause We're all Reading Different Books_

_

* * *

  
_

There was a loud 'thump', and then the shoe careened off of the wall and landed next to the door. Casey was already fuming, and the fact that her aim was so bad only added gasoline to the proverbial bonfire.

"Casey!" She looked at him, her eyes wild and bright, and he almost regretted saying her name. _Almost_. "Think you could stop throwing footwear at me long enough to, idunno, actually _talk_?" He had carefully closed some of the distance between them while he was talking, and now stood not more than a foot in front of her, holding his hands up in front of him in surrender.

She seemed to think for a moment, hands twitching at her sides. That wasn't a good sign.

Finally, unfortunately, she spoke: "This is all your fault!"

Derek was, quite frankly, too stunned to speak. But that was fine, because Casey wasn't done yet. The skies had opened and released a world-ending explosion of raw emotion; Derek just happened to be standing on ground zero. "It's all because of you, and your stupid _hair_, and your dumb being _nice_ to me like some sort of freak of nature- seriously, what's wrong with you?!" At this point she was poking him in the chest rather harshly with each point made. It kind of hurt, but he was too busy getting backed into a corner by an insane woman to really care. "And you just _had_ to kiss me back, like a complete doofus, not to mention you being so _unbelievably_ considerate of my feelings. And even, even when you're being the biggest jerk on the face of the planet, you have to go and make me laugh and be so goddamn adorable and now my mom hates me and she'll never speak to me… again… and- and-"

He leaned back against the wall nearest him as she stood there for a moment, swaying. She was still trembling, but it was the tears this time; he could see the glint in her eyes, and the way her shoulders were starting to slump ever-so-slightly. He reached for her shoulder, and with a gentle tug she was in his arms.

---

An hour later, and they were sitting on the floor next to her couch, and Casey was feeling… something. It wasn't good, whatever it was. And she couldn't believe she'd told him _everything_. Told him about the day after the kiss, when her mother had confronted her and the earth broke open, and might as well have swallowed her whole. It was the reason why she hadn't called, and why he'd consequently shown up at her apartment wanting to talk. She sniffed and rubbed her hands over her knees, the rough fabric of her jeans against her skin soothing her frazzled nerves. Suddenly there was a hand on hers, and she looked up.

"You always do that, you know…" There was that smile she loved to hate so much. All she could offer in return was something like a grimace. It didn't seem like enough.

"I'm sorry I threw my shoes at you." He laughed, twining their fingers together.

"Well… At least they weren't heels." Casey couldn't help but grin at that. An uneasy silence settled in for a few minutes, where they both stared at their hands and Casey tried to forget the epic fight she and her mother had had earlier that night. Her mind was working against her, however, and all she could see was the way Nora's face had seemingly caved in. The tears, and the accusations flung carelessly across the living room. Words like weapons, the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was something like loss.

"It's gonna be okay. I can fix this." She quickly disentangled her hand from his. The look on his face was desperate and determined, his jaw set firm, but his eyes… Casey really was an idiot.

"Derek, you don't…" Try again, Case. You can form words; you've managed to do it before. "It's not your fault. I didn't mean what I said, I was just… I mean, if anything it's _my_ fault, 'cause I kissed you first-" Her sentence ended abruptly, as the ability to form coherent thoughts left her for greener pastures.

"We both should… talk to her- them… I think." When she nodded at his suggestion, he breathed a barely audible sigh of relief. But she caught it, the slight puffing out of his cheeks… and, still, the nervous tremor that he would like to believe nobody ever noticed. The uncertainty of it all weighed down on them both.

"It's gonna be okay," she said as she took his hand again, and smiled. And she wasn't really sure of anything at that moment but the feel of his skin against hers.

---

The silence was horrible, oppressing, and Casey was trying her best not to break down in tears.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you, mom." Her mom's face softened somewhat at the timid voice that came from her daughter's mouth. That wasn't Casey; Casey was the girl who had been yelling at the top of her lungs last night.

"I love you." Nora almost seemed surprised that she said it. She stumbled awkwardly over her next few words before she found her voice. "You're my daughter, and I-I just… this is so… I don't understand how this could happen." Another moment passed. "When I saw you two kissing, I mean… it's like if I saw Marti kissing Edwin."

At that wonderful image, Derek groaned and shut his eyes tight, holding his head like it had just been pounded by a sledge-hammer full of crazy. Casey cringed, and couldn't stop a few tears from leaking out. George, she noticed, had his hand over his mouth, but he didn't seem upset, more like… no, he couldn't be laughing. She turned back to Nora.

"But, mom… I tried to explain to you before…" Derek's hand in hers was both welcome and not, and she wasn't sure whether to relax or start hyperventilating, given the situation. "We never really had much of a choice in this. And Derek's _not_ my brother; no amount of 'family time' or even your marriage can make that statement any less true." Nora was crying too, now, and Casey almost wanted to laugh at how silly they all were. As a family. As people.

"I love her."

And there it was.

Mouth open, she stared at Derek. He was just sitting there with his leather jacket, and his hand-holding, and the most amazing _thing_ just crackled up her spine like electricity.

His head tilted toward her, and she saw the smile that was just for her. It was sarcastic, and simple, like their own private joke. So she nudged him none-too-gently with her elbow and looked away, trying not to laugh when he couldn't seem to help himself.

"Well…" It was George who spoke this time, breaking up the moment. He took Nora's hand, rubbing her palm softly with his thumbs, and she visibly relaxed. "I think we both know," at this he locked eyes with her, "that you can't help who you fall in love with."

It was strange and comforting, this moment they were all unwittingly sharing. Casey squeezed Derek's hand again. Nora smiled a bit through her tears, not quite looking at anyone. It was a start, Casey thought, every bit as awkward and meaningful as every time before.


End file.
